


Hat Trick

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: 3+1 Things, Character Study, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Post S2, like lowkey but yeah, obligatory diner meet up, sam. a friend to all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: Sam Ecklund- intrepid journalist- lover of string and Peter Maldonado in that order- owner of way too many fucking hatsor: What did Sam do with all those hats (hint: he gave them to his friends.)





	1. The Wayback Boys

**Author's Note:**

> listen. this idea hit me like a ton of bricks one 3am and i havent been able to shake it since
> 
> also it gives me a segue to get yall on board w jebi aka gabi/jenna bc thts a thing ive decided to make happen w my bare hands! look forward to tht in ch 2
> 
> title is a hockey pun bc my first eldonado fic was a pun on gretzky and idk id like to keep tht ball rolling for some reason. i dont even like hockey but here we are huh yall!

Sam knew that the meet up at the diner was definitely a given. He didn't realize, however, that it'd be like, the moment they crossed the Oceanside town limits given, but hindsight's 20/20 and all that good shit.

As stated, the moment they rolled into town (Peter's mother driving like the absolute saint she was because they were still tired as _fuck_ from the combo of the going away party the Lyman's had thrown the night before and the then incredibly, incredibly early morning) their phones started lighting up.

Peter had frowned, his lips tugging downward tiredly, and he made no move to check his phone. Which, typical.

"Sam," he'd mumbled, repositioning his head where it was rested on his boyfriend's shoulder in a rare public display of affection. "Sammy," he'd added for good measure, and Sam got it.

(Sam also got the look Mrs. Maldonado had shot them in the rearview, having definitely picked up on the new, surprisingly concentrated affection in the old nickname. Her eyebrow quirked the exact same way Peter's did, but there was something a little more lenient in the curve of her smile than that of her son's and Sam really, really fucking loved Mrs. Maldonado.)

Because yeah, Sam was tired as hell, but he was never too tired for possible scandal and/or some sweet, sweet Attention. Also, someone had to keep them in the loop when Peter got anti-social.

"It's…" he'd started, before squinting tiredly at his screen. "It's a group text?"

That had, impossibly, made Peter frown even more.

"With who?"

His voice was this impossibly soft and scratchy tone that Sam appreciated on principle of being an admirer of the good things in life, but it still wasn't enough to snap him from his, not stunned, worried, perhaps, state.

"Sam? Is everything okay?"

"Uh, maybe? Yeah, I think so," he continued. "It's me, you, Dylan, and like, I think also Lucas, Spencer, and Ganj?"

"Jesus, don't tell me there's already another dick crisis," he mumbled under his breath. Loud enough for Sam to hear, but low enough Mrs. Maldonado would just have to wonder what he said, instead of ordering him a swift tax to the family swear jar from his newly minted Netflix money.

"Nah, man, I think they just wanna hang out."

Audible pause. Then, "What?"

"Yeah, I," he laughed a little. "I think they were trying to plan a surprise thing at the diner as a welcome back party, but they like, got their groups mixed up."

Sure enough, a text came in a second later from Dylan that simply read **fuck guys we ruined the surprise**.

"You boys up for that? You both look beat," Mrs. Maldonado commented from the front as she flicked her blinker on.

Sam spared a questioning look down at Peter, one that said, "I'm game if you are."

He saw the hesitation behind his glasses, one he understood loud and clear.

Peter's mom knew, and so did Sam's parents. About them dating, that is. They'd also just spent a couple months set up in the Lymans' guest house by themselves, where they spent a lot of their time not having anyone to be seen by. And this was their last full day to just… _be_ , before the end of the semester started and they had to be Peter and Sam again and not peterandsam.

But this would kinda take the wind out of those sails. Their friends didn't know, and wouldn't, not for a little while longer, at least.

So yeah, Sam got the hesitation. Breaking the cycle would be hard. 

But,

"Yeah, it'll be good to catch up."

It must be broken anyway.

"At least stop at the house and take a breather, all right?" she asked. "I don't want you - either of you - to run yourselves into the ground. 

Sam knew she'd seen the new bags under their eyes, knew she could read the waves of tension and tiredness in Peter's shoulders better than maybe even he could. It was a fair request - and one he'd be more than happy to help her fulfill.

"Oh yeah, they're not trying to meet up for another few hours. It's nap city when we get to your guys' house."

Sam had learned a long time ago the best way to get Peter to cooperate on anything that wasn't a documentary or like, movie trivia tournaments or what the fuck ever, was to not give him much of a choice.

So the fact that Sam's parents wouldn't be home until tomorrow from a conference, and he'd already gotten the all clear earlier in the week to stay at the Maldonado's until said parental arrival, a Sam Ecklund Nap Extravaganza was inevitable. The smaller, non-capitalized Peter Maldonado nap fest was just a logical add on.

Peter liked logical, and he responded well to life guidance, especially if it came in the form of his boyfriend inadvertantly offering to curl up together on the couch for an hour or two. It was a true win-win if Sam had ever seen one.

Mrs. Maldonado smiled slightly at Sam in the rearview mirror, a silent thank you. If asked, the smile that fell upon his face soon there afterwards was at the group text still lighting up on front of him.

When they finally pulled to a stop in front of the Maldonado's house, Sam felt his own tension release slightly. He couldn't say that there weren't a lot of constants in his life, as that would be a huge injustice to like, everyone who had stuck with him, but the familiar driveway, that front stoop. It was nice to see, a constant that had been with him since he was a kid and they used to carpool after school so as to play Batman in the backyard or watch cartoons in the living room or whatever else they could come up with for a few hours.

Sam turned to look at Peter, intending on a light quip about days long gone. Maybe one about the summer before sixth grade when they both broke an arm on seperate occasions because they never learned not to jump off of tall things and were most worried about getting blood on his mother's welcome mat. Or maybe about that time when they were like, nine, and they spent hours outside in the blistering heat on a sidewalk chalk mural only for a surprise summer shower to wash it away in 20 minutes.

There were so many options - so much of Sam's life had happened here, continued to happen here - but they all melted away when he looked down to find Peter asleep on his shoulder, mouth pinched slightly, eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones.

Sam liked to think he had a big heart as everything stood, so maybe a grew three sizes analogy wasn't right, but hey, it'd have to do.

"Is he actually asleep?" Mrs. Maldonado called, turning around in her seat to inspect the scene. 

"Uh…yeah, think so," he replied as he watched his eyes move in silent dreaming. Peter was horrible at bullshitting sleep, but this was the genuine article.

"If you can get him inside just leave all your bags, we can get them later, okay?"

"Okay." And then came the part where he had to wake Peter up enough to get him to walk inside himself because Sam is a physically weak man who cannot fully support his sleeping boyfriend, but still manage to keep him asleep enough that he can pass right back out once they make it to the couch.

Good news was, Sam had a lot of practice. Peter had taken to falling asleep in the living room of the guest house in the middle of all their case info, and Sam couldn't just _leave_ him there, and he would say that was because he didn't want to hear Peter complain about how bad his back hurt from falling asleep on the floor or in any other awkward place, but mostly it was because Sam was a fucking sap and just wanted his boyfriend to get a good night's sleep when he deigned to, y'know, sleep.

"Pete, c'mon man, we're here." 

A small, "What?"

"We're here, get up," and at least the quiet insistence he put into it got him to crack open one eye.

"Hey, there you go," Sam joked, "Can you get inside or should we just lock the car behind us?"

He heard a muffled, "I'm getting up, asshole," and knew he'd succeeded in his mission, so he hopped out of the car and was already halfway up the steps before Peter caught up.

They barely made it across the threshold before Peter had kicked his shoes off, silenced his still ringing phone, and started trailing toward the living room.

"Dude," Sam called after him, other words filing in behind, waiting their turn. But Peter doesn't hesitate, falling onto the couch at a slight angle so as not to crush his glasses. 

They sat in their respective silences, Sam stifling a small laugh because composure was key in moments like this, and Peter trying not to fall asleep again, if the droop of his eyes are anything to go by.

Finally he must have realized the slight twist at the corner of Sam's mouth because he smiled slightly, sleepily back at him and asked, "Are you comin' over here or what?"

Which, really, all the motivation Sam needed. He was a physically weak man, and he's also susceptible to sleepy boyfriend smiles - truly a keeper. One in a million.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, waving his hand flippantly as he started to kick his shoes off.

When he sunk into the couch it was as if all his previous tiredness had caught back up to him, so he immediately reclined, one arm going around Peter's waist. 

"Glasses," Peter mumbled, huffing at himself as he leaned back from Sam long enough to pull them off of his face. 

Sam smiled slightly, softly, plucking them from Peter's fingers and reaching back to drop them on the coffee table.

There was something…infinite, about seeing Peter without his glasses. Like, it was a rare occurrence, but every time, every single time it happened it felt like the first. 

"Stop staring at me," Peter grumbled - honest to god grumbled, this fucking guy - swatting blindly at him.

"I'm _not_ ," Sam croaked out, the tips of his ears firing red immediately.

They'd been dating for, god, over two years, and even the simplest thing like getting caught staring still got him embarrassed. Totally unfair, all that was supposed to stop at like, six months in max.

"You totally are and it's distracting me from sleeping."

"I think it says more that that distracts you than it does that I'm staring-"

Peter cut him off with a gentle kiss to his jawline. "Please shut up," he mumbled. "I'm not sure if you can get jet-lagged on the same coast, but I think I am, and I really just want to fall asleep next to you, okay?"

Couldn't argue with that.

"Yeah, all right, dude, go ahead."

It was rare that Peter was that honest, that open - even in his inebriated-by-his-shitty-sleep-schedule state. So Sam let him tuck into his chest, rested his chin in his dark brown hair, and promptly passed the fuck out.

\---

"What time is it?" Peter mumbled into his chest, not wanting to move. 

Sam blinked away the faint sleep crust to his eyes and shook his sleeve down to peek at the Apple Watch snapped firmly on his wrist - his one and only splurge before he'd shoved all his Vandal money into his bank account and told himself not to fuck with it.

"Like, quarter to six," he replied, arm falling back to its resting place.

"What time do we have to be to the diner?"

"I think like, eight-ish, to be honest. Something about Spencer not getting off work 'til seven thirty."

"Spencer has a real job?"

"That's what it sounded like, he was on his lunch break when they were all texting earlier, I think."

"What the fuck."

"Right?"

A beat, then, "You're hungry now though, right?"

"Dude, I'm starving."

Which is how they ended up finally upright on the couch, Catfish playing on the TV, classic chips and french onion dip between them.

"It's obviously the ex," Peter said, gesturing at the TV, chip still in hand. "You don't duck out of a call that quick if you aren't hiding anything."

"No, dude, c'mon, it's the best friend! The ex just wants to leave the relationship in the past, which is why they were so dodgy. The best friend, though, they want to get out of the friendzone," Sam argued, turning to face him as the commercials popped up.

Peter shook his head as he dropped his hand to swipe a chip through the dip. "It's- aw," he muttered as his chip promptly snapped. 

" _Weak_ ," Sam jeered, using his own chip to fish out the snapped piece and toss it in his mouth.

"You stole my chip," Peter commented, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh."

Sam watched as the laughter passed through his face - still lined with those weird sleep marks that you never know where they'll appear or why. His eyes are still sleep-soft, and his glasses aren't straight on his nose, and his hair is pushed back, and, and, and. And Sam thinks he loves him.

It's been two years, and they've said it, said it a lot more than one would think two emotionally repressed teenage boys would _say_ I love you, but something hits Sam in that moment.

It doesn't really make sense, and it feels like drinking hot apple cider in the middle of the dead winter - heat spreading through his chest and into his stomach. He loves him, and he thinks it's- he can't explain it. Can't find the words.

It's. He. 

Ugh.

He thinks he loves Peter more than, and somehow that still doesn't capture the full scope of what's going through his mind, through his chest, but it'll do.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Peter commented drolly, his lips quirking up slightly on one side, and Sam laughed, snapping out of his stupor and flicking a stray glob of chip dip at his face, only for it to land on his neck.

"Oh, gross."

"Just shut up and eat your chips."

\---

Despite everything, they were still ten minutes late, which Sam found to a fun kind of irony. Peter, forever and unrepentantly a stickler for time, found it annoying.

When they walked into the diner - not touching, but so, so close - there was an immediate wave of whoops and howls from a section in the back corner.

"The boys are back in _town_!" Lucas called out, earning another round of waitstaff-cringe-inducing sound.

Sam rolled his eyes, but his lips were pulling into a satisfied grin as he offered a hand for Dylan to smack in greeting and tug him into one of the those weird bro hugs that he's weirdly good at.

Peter is not good at them so when they release, Dylan turns two arms on Peter and pulls him against his chest in a horribly tight hug, his cologne practically condensating on Peter's glasses.

"Pete, man, we didn't think you guys were gonna show!" 

"Yeah," Lucas called as he released Sam from another bro hug and passing him off to Ganj. "I mean, we got Ganj away from her girl for the night, the least y'all two could've done was not let your makeout run into quality og Vandal crew bonding time!"

It's a familiar joke - the WB still sure of the spark between their former documentarian and camera man. And they weren't wrong, obviously, but the joke, however non-malicious, still made Peter's shoulders bunch.

"Man, ignore Lucas, he's just being a shit," Dylan instructed. "He missed you guys so now he's gotta overcompensate. But yo, sit down! We did manage to get the right amount of chairs this time."

Sam laughed at that. 

At the last Morning Crew Nine meetup before most of their seniors graduated, there had been a…hilarious shortage of available seating.

Once he sat, Peter across from Dylan, Sam across from Spencer, Lucas and Ganj perched respectively on either end, Sam realized what was different.

"Dude, your hair," he interjected between calls for catch up. "It's like-"

"Different." Spencer grinned. "Yeah, they don't let me wear it down at work. Tried a bun, but I wasn't into it, so the boy's started like, testing new shit out on me and all. I'm pretty partial to a good pony now," he explained, tugging at the long black ponytail on the back of his head.

And it's wild, because Sam doesn't think he's ever, in his life, seen Spencer without his hair down, partially tucked firmly behind hus ears. It's almost…disconcerting to see the newly visible parts of the dude's forehead, in all honesty.

"Oh, where are you working at?" Sam asked.

"The new sandwich place? We just opened, but I guess that was after you guys left. You'll have to come check it out."

"Yeah, definitely," Sam agreed, then, "All right, we already know what Dylan's been up to, 'cause the man couldn't go a week without texting Pete while we were up in Washington, so Lucas, Ganj, what's up?"

"Oh, shit, man, yeah, community college," Ganj said. "Shit's going well, too, all my professors love me."

"They hate Lucas, though," Spencer supplied with a wicked grin.

"'cause he asked his fuckin', gen ed credit math professor what a formula had to do with majoring in weed, like a fuckin' idiot," Dylan hollered acorss the table. "You're such a dipshit, man."

Sam, however, could tell that Dylan thought it was hilarious.

"Man, shut up, you called your manager at Foot Locker _mom_."

"Her name is _Monica_ , and I called her _Mon_."

"Uh-huh, sure. They give y'all family discounts?"

"Shut the fuck up."

After that the table dissolved into chaos, Sam happy to watch it all unfold, for once. Peter somehow got roped into catching the fries Dylan was throwing at him - Sam knew he'd complain about all the grease on his glasses for exactly two days thereafter - while Spencer, Ganj, and Lucas all kept a steady stream of expletive-laced chatter.

It was comfortable - probably the most comfortable Sam had been in Oceanside in a long time.

Every now and then Peter woukd shoot him check-in looks, and he'd just smile in return before going back to whatever topic was at hand.

Also, they covertly played footsie under the table, 'cause theyre were fucking twelve at heart.

Finally, somewhere around midnight, their waitress came over and placed the bill on the table, a polite way of saying "please leave so I can go home."

What ensued would become known as the Great Tab Debacle, in which the WB insisted because they had invited them, it was their treat, and Sam and Peter saying that they could _Just split the bill, damnit, Dylan._

In the end, Ganj rolled her eyes, pulled out her wallet while no one was watching, and went to the counter to pay, because the tab was all of $40, because it was a local, late-night diner, not a fucking steakhouse.

Peter and Sam scrambled to take care of the tip, which Dylan and Lucas and Spencer also fought them over (Ganj had already, unbeknownst to all of them, tipped her like 25% for putting up with their bullshit and gone out to the parking lot.)

It was fine though, seeing as how the waitress probably made nearly double their whole bill because everyone slipped her something when the others weren't looking.

By the time they all made it outside, it was only natural for them to, as any self-respecting gathering of teens would, loiter in the parking lot for another half hour.

It was nearly one when they all admitted that they needed to head back to their respective abodes, so they did their back-slap hugs and weird handshakes and high fives, and right as they were about to hop in their vehicles, Sam called out, "Fuck! Wait a second!"

Peter frowned at him, peering over the top of the car and quirking an eyebrow as his boyfriend dove toward the backseat and grabbed his backpack.

He rustled around in it one-handed, finally extracting-

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Peter laughed incredulously.

"Souvenirs," Sam said with a flourish. "Wait a week before you sell them on Ebay, I want to feel good about this," he added, doling out four, yes, gas station hats.

"Oh, sick!" Dylan immediately shouted, tugging his onto his head appreciatively. "Dude, these are dope," he added as he pressed his hands on either side of the bill to lightly bend it.

"Yeah, thanks, man," Spencer added with a grin, pulling his hair tie out of his hair to shake it out and thunk the hat down on his head.

All in all, it ended with yet _another_ round of back-slappings, and finally, Sam and Peter were in the car, headed back to the latter's.

"You'll really do anything to get rid of those hats."

"Dude, I have _seven_ extras."

Simultaneously, "And a snowglobe."

"So I gotta do something with them."

"Well, they seemed happy."

"Yeah," he replied, tapping his hands on the steering wheel for a beat before, "I think we could tell them, y'know?" he asked lazily, eyes tired and chest full.

"Yeah," Peter said honestly. "But not before you tell Gabi."

"Oh, hell no, she'd drive all the way here to kick my ass."

"Exactly, and I prefer your ass unkicked."

Sam laughed. "You really know how to keep the romance alive, Pete."


	2. DeMarcus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know anything abt basketball but ik i love demarcus so just roll w me on this one yall
> 
> also a consistent timeline? idk her just suspend your disbelief for a bit im begging you itll make all our lives easier

The thing is, is that even after giving away four of the fucking gas station hats, he still had, in hat terms, a shit ton of them. A metric fuckload, if you will. Enough hats that he didn't know where to store them until he could pawn them off on his weirdly expanded group of friends.

It was getting kind of ridiculous, actually. His dresser was weeping under the weight. 

"Why are you staring at your dresser like it's been talking shit about you," Peter commented as he entered Sam's room, his brow quirked slightly. He shirked his bag at the door next to Sam's and came up beside him, crossing his arms, hands on his elbows, and turning his head to the side in solidarity. 

"These hats," Sam replied. "Are out to fucking get me."

Peter paused, choosing his words carefully. "Care to elaborate?"

Sam frowned slightly. "No."

"All right."

Sam sighed through his nose, turning to Peter and pressing a hand to his arm to brace himself into a kiss of greeting. "What's up?"

Peter bumped his nose against Sam's cheek before he pulled away, and there, for one small second, they stood like that. Faces pressed close and eyes shut.

But the split second passed and they instead stood in front of one another, half smiles on their mouths - the default expression when the other is around.

"Wanted to see if you were up for a roadtrip," Peter said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Oh, hell yeah, what've you got in mind?" He was already mentally tallying where his keys and phone were, if he had shoes by the front door that would match his outfit or if he needed to shuffle through his closet real quick-

"DeMarcus is playing a game about an hour or so from here? He texted and invited us out," he explained. "Said we could maybe do lunch or something after."

It'd been a few months since they last saw DeMarcus - or any of the St. Bernie's gang, for that matter. 

Chloe still texted every now and then, which was nice, and they kept up with Kevin and the Horsehead Collective when he deigned to post on his social media or fire off a stuffily worded, but well-meaning text. Jenna FaceTimed Sam once a few weeks back, but he thought she might've been high and done it on accident - they'd still had a nice talk, though, even if it had been four a.m. She had dropped St. Bernie's and moved down to California, but she was going for her GED, working at some fast food joint on the side to 'build some character,'and _possibly_ seeing someone, though she was less forthcoming on that front.

DeMarcus, however, hadn't let them forget him - not that they could. Despite the states between them, he had managed to text regularly, keeping up to date on social media, and calling from time to time should the need arise. It was weird, but kinda cool, in Sam's opinion. The dude had been through some real shit (no pun intended, honest,) and it was nice to see him land on his feet. 

So the invite really didn't come as a surprise to Sam.

"Yeah, that sounds great. Otherwise I get to watch my dad pace the halls until the mail runs."

"You still haven't gotten anything?" Peter asked, lips pulled in concern. He'd been waitlisted at his #1 school, but he'd gotten his acceptance letter to his second choice film school the week before. 

"Nah, but I'm not worried about it. I talked to a bunch of people that applied to some of the same places and they still haven't heard anything either."

Peter nodded. "Okay."

They'd made a pact before they started doing their apps that they wouldn't tell one another where they applied. They could talk about campuses, programs, whatever, but they couldn't mention names. It had been a mutual decision so that neither of them, even subconsciously, chose where to apply based on location in correlation with the other.

They'd had dreams before dating, and if there were ever an _after_ (though Sam hoped there wouldn't be, and hoped that was a mutual feeling) they didn't want to have compromised their lives just to be closer. Besides, they could make drives, text and FaceTime and Skype and all that bullshit for a few years. Long distance wasn't even a worry (Sam hoped if he told himself that enough it would be true.)

But now Sam knew where Peter was going because also part of the agreement was reveal upon denial/acceptance. And Sam hadn't heard back from anyone. And he hadn't included "one of us not getting into any college at all" in his mental spreadsheet.

But what he'd said was true, he had talked to plenty of people with apps out to the same colleges, and they hadn't heard back either.

That didn't make the waiting game any less nerve-wracking, though.

"You okay, though?" Peter asked, giving him a borderline thoughtful look, head still tilted slightly. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out for him, but even after all this time they still danced around closeness from time to time.

"Yeah, dude, I'm fine," he assured him. "And hey, if I'm not I've got an hour to clear my head."

Peter's face did something then, soft and a little sad and a little worried and a lot more caring than people gave him credit for, and it made Sam's heart do something stupid in his chest.

He reached for him then, grabbing the back of his neck and only giving his enough time to move his hand out of the way where his thumb had been brushing against his bottom lip - like what the fuck? He's just not supposed to kiss him when he's doing that? - before he connected their mouths.

It wasn't a split second, but it wasn't five minutes, and it worked because it was them, and he could feel the warmth of Peter's skin under his palm and the cool of his class ring against his jaw, and it worked.

And Sam wouldn't drop everything for Peter, he knew that. He loved him, but even at seventeen he knew that.

But damn, he never could resist a roadtrip.

\---

An hour and ten minutes later they rolled into the parking lot of some high school neither of them have ever heard of. There was a decent sized gym visible from where they'd parked, all old brick and crumbling mortar.

"What's this for anyway?" Sam asked as he readjusted his hat on his head - the genuine article, not one of the subsequent bribery buys.

"Uh, like a charity thing, I think? He didn't really give a ton of details," Peter mumbled as he fought with the seatbelt buckle.

Finally, after dealing the winning blow and getting it to come undone, he looked up, adjusting his glasses slightly as he said, "I thought you hated that hat. I literally just saw you staring down that hat an hour ago."

"No, Pete, dude, I hate the _extras_ I have of this hat. The extras are bullshit. This hat is a prized possession."

Snorting, Peter reached out and batted down the bill of it into his eyes. 

Reaching up quickly to reset it on his hair, he heard a fond, "Nerd," from his boyfriend.

"We gonna head inside anytime soon?" Peter finally asked from where he was leaned back against the door, his plaid button up pulling across his shoulders where his arms were crossed.

"Maybe," Sam muttered as he smoothed down a cowlick at the front of his hair. "Maybe I got you to drive us an hour so we could miss the game. I'm a man of mystery, Pete."

"You're anything but. C'mon before DeMarcus thinks we bailed and gets all mopey in the groupchat."

They ended up getting pretty good seats, all said and done. Their knees knocked because the asshole beside Peter has his legs spread to take up enough bleacher for two people, but really, it wasn't that much of a problem.

Sam always got a thrill out of touching Peter in public. Hand on or arms around the shoulder, knees pressing against one another, feet tapping and tangling under the table. The novelty truly hadn't worn off.

And yeah, he'd like to maybe hold his hand - because as much as Peter denied it he was as big a sap as Sam was when it came to them and they liked to hold hands - or be able to lean against him without it causing questioning. But they had a plan, and it was one they were comfortable with. 

They tell people after graduation. Get their diplomas and then let go of their one last tie to Hanover.

It had been their plan since about eight months in, when they realized it was more than just a fling. When they realized it was honest to god real and like, they needed to actually think about it in terms of the long run. (When they first said 'I love you' and everything finally made sense.)

"You know," Peter said as the players started to filter onto the court. "We spent all that time filming and studying around basketball, and I still don't think I understand literally anything about it."

Sam looked out across the polished hardwood, differentiating between home and away jerseys, searching for that one familiar face. He spotted DeMarcus and Gonzo talking on the sidelines, still having not taken up their places, but it didn't look like they'd spotted them yet.

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "Just cheer when the ball goes in this hoop and you'll be fine."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Asshole." No malice, just affection.

Sam grinned. "You know me well."

The game started almost right after that, the sound of sneakers on the old hardwood and a layer of blanket chatter permeating the air almost immediately. DeMarcus was still quick on his feet as ever, nabbing an assist at the very beginning of the first quarter, and just continuing on uninhibited from there.

It was weirdly nice, in an over-familiar way, to see that fake violin again. Sam had missed the St. Bernie's kids, DeMarcus, of course, included.

It wasn't until the third quarter that things really started to heat up. The rival team had picked up a few shots, a few free throws too, and now they were close to overtaking their opponents. 

Despite DeMarcus's ever-present chill exterior, Sam could tell in the way he moved he was feeling the pressure. Which culminated when one of the rival team's players took a nasty, underhanded shot and put one of DeMarcus's teammates flat on his ass in a way that the ref couldn't tell what happened.

Immediately, the teams split on the court, one of DeMarcus's teammates yelling at the guy with the smug, fake-angelic look on his face, who was playing it up for the onlooking ref.

Faintly, Sam could pick out DeMarcus's voice, but he didn't think if he wasn't looking for it he would have found it. "That was dirty! Do somethin', Ref-"

So the ref ejected both the player at fault and the player that had been hit, causing an uptick in the volume of even the crowd.

"So much for a nice charity event," Peter mumbled to Sam as someone behind them stood up to start shouting as if _that_ would solve the problem.

The crowd managed to keep to the bleachers, and the players to the court, and they finished the game, the final horn sounding as Gonzo finished an assist from DeMarcus. 

Sam didn't think he'd ever seen DeMarcus _pass_ someone the ball, but there was always time for surprises, it seemed. Character growth, too.

People all around them got up the moment the shot sunk and started filing toward the door, obviously done with the game. Others stood and stretched, but waited, bouncing in the balls of their feet and chattering with the person beside them.

He and Peter stayed seated, speaking quietly with their heads ducked and faces turned toward one another.

By the time they came back into their surroundings, the crowds had thinned significantly, and they could stand without fear of being hip checked by some basketball mom trying to get to her kid.

Peter covertly patted his pockets to make sure he still had all his belongings as Sam readjusted his hat and starting looking for DeMarcus in the players and their loved ones on the court.

He found him towards the corner, zipping up his jacket as he spoke to two girls who stood in front of him, pinkies hooked.

Sam motioned his head toward his general direction for Peter's benefit, and they made their way over leisurely, not wanting to interrupt.

As they got closer, the girls came more into focus. One with longer, wavy hair, her brown fingers playing at that of the other girl's, whose hair, longer than when they'd last seen it, bounced everytime she spoke for the constant movement of her head.

" _Gabi_?" he blurted, because he wasn't entirely sure what else to say. Or because he had approximately a zero percent handle on his mouth. It was a toss up.

Her head whipped to the side quickly, her mouth forming words, but her voice seemingly leaving her.

"Sam," she finally said, her voice tightly wound. Scared. Oh, god, he didn't want her to be scared. "Peter," she added.

Sam didn't miss the way her hand tightened around the fingers it held and his stomach dropped because he hadn't _known_ and he should have _known_.

Gabi may have two years on him, had two years on this earth without him, but she'd been his best friend for all of his seventeen years, and that-

"Hey, guys," Jenna Hawthorne - Gabi was holding hands with _Jenna Hawthorne_ \- said evenly, her eyes daring them to say a wayward thing. And Sam almost laughed because god the _irony_ of Jenna fucking Hawthorne thinking he and his _boyfriend_ of three _years_ were going to say some asshole thing to them for holding hands was almost too much.

Oh god, the reason Jenna was so tightlipped was because even High Jenna knew better than to drop the fact that she was seeing his best friend on him out of the blue.

"Hey, Jenna," Peter finally supplied, impervious to the tension, cutting off the rousing round of awkward eye contact happening between all of them. 

It seemed to kickstart everything. DeMarcus had gone around the two girls to offer enthused greetings to try to diffuse some of the tension, his smile genuine, but the skin around his eyes tense.

"What's up, Pete, Sam!" he explained, offering meticulous hand shakes. "Didn't think y'all were gonna show-"

"Just a sec," Sam said, leaning around DeMarcus. " _Gabi_ ," he hissed, trying to go for earnest and not like, homophobic douchebag (the _irony_.)

Her cheeks were warm and the side of her lip was between her teeth and honestly, Sam hadn't seen her that scared in years.

"Gab," he tried again, softening his tone. "It's fine."

And it wasn't lost on him that maybe he shouldn't be having this conversation while leaned around a guy he had only known for a few months at best, but Sam had never really been great at doing things the way they were supposed to be done, so he stayed like that, imploring her not to quit him because his mouth moved faster than his brain sometimes.

"Of course it's fine," she said, and it wasn't a snap, but Sam realized that maybe he'd said the wrong thing and Jesus- he needed a breather. Vaguely, he tallied the people around them, and realized that thankfully the count was holding steady at zero.

"No, that's not what I meant-"

"Then what did you mean-"

"I was just-"

"Get your foot out of your mouth, Ecklund, it doesn't suit you," Jenna said slowly, he words chosen with surprising carefulness. "Gabs, you know Sam isn't a homophobic dickwad, he's just an idiot, and _god_ I can't believe I'm sticking up for him right now, but that's totally not what he meant, and you know it."

"Maybe y'all shouldn't air all y'all's dirty laundry in the middle of the court," DeMarcus interjected, not unkindly, and more than definitely correct.

"Oh, no, they're on a roll now, you have to let them finish," Peter said seriously, crossing his arms over his chest patiently. "Trust me, I've been dealing with this for years."

"Whatever you say, Pete."

"I didn't realize you guys would be here," Gabi finally said to Sam, her own arms crossed. 

"I didn't realize - a lot, apparently."

Sam had no right to be hurt by Gabi not telling him, considering he himself was harboring quite literally the exact same confession, but hurt never did follow the rules either, so here he was unsure of how to proceed.

Gabi seemed to be able to read the indecision in his face, or maybe she just needed to say what she needed to say, because she barrelled forward with, "God, Sam, it's not that I didn't want to tell you I was just trying to figure out _how_."

"Hold up, she just switched like three gears on 'im," he heard DeMarcus say, Peter's reply of, "This is what they do," following quietly behind. Sam wasn't facing him, but he knew Peter was holding his hand up placatingly.

"You didn't have to figure anything out! You could've just told me! I've been waiting for you to move on from your dick of an ex, this is literally best case scenario-"

"How is this _best case scenario_?" she finally bit back dangerously. "That's a really fucked up thing to say, Sam-"

Sam sputtered, his hands starting to move rapidly with his words. "Because _I'm gay_ , Gabi, and you being gay or bi or whatever makes it a hell of a lot easier to tell you."

"Oh, _shit_ ," DeMarcus murmured.

"Okay, he doesn't usually do that," Peter commented honestly, hastily. "No, okay, you were right they shouldn't be doing this in the middle of the court."

"No reason in trying to move them, the place is empty and Gabi's got that look in her eye," Jenna said nonchalantly, picking under her index fingernail woth her thumbnail and trying to avoid eye contact. Tension rolled off her in waves.

"Are you fucking with me?" Gabi breathed out.

"No! Why would I just fucking come out to fuck with you?" And now Sam had nervous heat crawling up the back of his neck and it occurred to him that he'd just nearly doubled the amount of people that knew he was gay in about two seconds and god, this was good practice for June for sure, but he felt so nauseous and his hands were jittering and he wished, god he wished he'd done this at literally _any_ other moment.

"I don't know!" Gabi shouted back, shaking her arms out from elbow to fingertip. "God, c'mere, you idiot," she said with a relieved grin, pulling him in for a hug that he gladly returned.

"'m sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he mumbled into her shoulder. 

"Me too, kiddo," she said. "I wanted to tell you, like, so many times."

"God, me too," he replied, and just like that, they were fine.

"Bruh, like, what the fuck just happened?" DeMarcus said, efficiently ending the capital m Moment.

"It's a gay thing, Dee," Jenna quipped, patting his elbow. "Don't think too hard about it."

The three stood around the two hugging friends awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Finally, Gabi and Sam pulled back from one another, the former's phone ringing from her back pocket, an insistent trill that made Jenna's nose scrunch slightly.

"Fuck, I have work," Gabi blurted as she moved closer to Jenna. "We have to go," she added, as if that weren't obvious.

"I'll Skype you later?" Sam asked, hesitation still evident.

"Please," she said honestly, softly. "Seriously, I'm closing, so I'll be up half the night, as is."

"Okay, yeah."

She and Jenna said quick goodbyes, DeMarcus offering Jenna a high five she had to stand on her tiptoes to manage (which earned him no less than two "You asshole"s) and Gabi a simple, one-armed hug. After that they hurried quickly out of the gym, talking and laughing the whole way, and Sam made a mental to note to find out when the fuck _that_ had happened. And how. And why.

But then they were three.

A silent three.

A silent three in which two were having a silent conversation and the third was looking on curiously.

"Shit, man, that was wild," DeMarcus said, realizing that Sam and Peter weren't going to break the silence.

That did, at least, get them to break the weird facial expression conversation they were having - Sam's eyebrows moving dangerously high up his forehead and Peter's face pinching so hard it seemed to threaten to cave in on itself.

"Like, that's good for you Sam, live your best life, an'all that," he added hastily, hands coming together in front of him. "Love is love, you know."

"Thanks," Sam said, looking up at him. "Sorry, uh, I know you this isn't what you were, y'know, expecting."

"Nah, man, sometimes you just gotta get your truth out there. I respect that. But we _do_ need to leave because the janitor's gonna kick us out in like five, so," he said, hands coming together once again.

"Oh, yeah, of course."

Which was how they ended up with Peter in the driver seat, Sam in the passenger, and DeMarcus sprawled out in the backseat as they pulled through the Taco Bell drive through.

He'd hitched a ride with them to hang out, the only stipulation being that he had to be back to the school by four to catch the bus back.

"It was pretty cold, throwing a star athlete in the backseat like this. Like, I really just deserve better than this, I feel like-"

"So, what, three soft shell?" Peter asked drolly, eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah," DeMarcus muttered, a tad of mock petulance to his tone as he shot his gaze out the window.

Once everyone had their respective orders, Peter pulled them around and into a parking space, because why go in when you could sit in your car in a practically abandoned parking lot?

They ate in silence for the most part, throwing out interjections like bobbers on the water, letting them sit a while before recasting.

DeMarcus told tale of the bus ride down from Washington, a disastrous affair that kept Sam laughing in a constant state of pure glee. Neither of the boys commented on the way Peter watched Sam's crinkled face with a small smile of his own. Mostly because Sam hadn't even noticed, and DeMarcus knew better than to call someone out in a moment like that.

"You've got sauce on your face," Peter told Sam. "Like, all over your face, how'd you manage that?" he added with a laugh, digging a napkin out of the back and handing it over.

Sam knocked his hat up a little and scrubbed a napkin over his face, this weird, incredulous laugh escaping Peter as he does.

DeMarcus almost felt like he was intruding.

"Ay, so, Sam," DeMarcus said around a bite of his food. "Like-"

Sam turned around in his seat, resting his chin just by the headrest. "Yeah?"

And DeMarcus almost asked. Honestly, he did, without even thinking it through, but right before he could get the question out, his mind hit the buzzer and told him to knock that shit off. 

"Nah, y'know what, man? Nevermind, that's none a' my business. Y'all do you, I'm good either way," he finished, reaching down to roll the paper around his third taco down slightly.

Sam and Peter shared a look then, one that DeMarcus didn't catch that had Peter mumbling a, "Go ahead," so low that Sam almost missed it.

Sam grinned, lopsided and a little reckless, and turned back around, leaning down to rummage through his bookbag.

"I was gonna save this for later," he explained, "But now'll work." Which one he was referring to was anyone's guess.

He turned one more time, extending a hand clasping a gas station hat to him. "Sophomore year," he added, watching, waiting for DeMarcus to make the connect.

"Shit, forreal?" 

Sam wasn't sure which _he_ was referring to, but either way it was a simple, "Yeah," response.

"Good, 'cause it's shameful for it to be any other way," he said simply, reaching out to bat Sam's hat back down.

"Hey!" Sam squawked, any lingering tension suddenly gone. "This is a one of a kind, no one touches-"

"Sam, he's literally holding its twin."

"Peter, with all due respect, which is exactly one point none, that's bullshit, and you know it."

DeMarcus grinned.

All was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to give yall a small teaser bc ch 3 is already p much half-written and fully-plotted its gabi and im uh. psyched!
> 
> find me on tumblr @wlwshehulk and Yes i do take vandal prompts


	3. Gabi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little dialogue heavy but a lot of fun!! also some exposition on how i basically shoehorned in the rarest of rare ships, jebi.

Sam was wearing Peter's hoodie. The gray one, that he practically lived in during season one of Vandal. Sam was a notorious clothes thief as it was, but god, he loved nabbing that hoodie, returning it only once its absence was noticed. 

The collar smelled like his stupid shampoo and his stupid cologne that his mom had given him for his birthday that he'd actually taken to wearing. Sufficed to say, it smelled nice and made Sam miss him a little bit, but it was fine, because the hoodie was infamously soft as fuck from years of use. It was practically like having Peter with him.

And god, he kinda wished Peter was with him.

Because he was standing on a campus he himself had looked into going to, looking dumbfounded in his oversized sweatshirt, trying to remember Gabi's dorm info.

Because Sam was going to do it. He was going to tell Gabi…everything.

And he was kinda fucking sick over it.

They had been friends longer than he and Peter had, which said everything it needed to. Gabi was his best friend, practically his sister, he'd looked up to her for years, and in those years, he'd omitted a few things. 

And yeah, a little of it was that fear of the unknown. That inkling of doubt. But anyone who said they didn't have that was lying. And anyway, it wasn't the fear or doubt that kept him from doing it. It was the not being ready. 

Not being ready was a whole other ball park from fear or doubt.

But now he was ready. Graduation was around the corner and he could see a new horizon pinking just ahead of him. And he wanted to be able to drag Gabi along for the ride, no hesitations.

So, with that in mind, he marched into what he was 76% sure was at least her building, and asked the first person that stopped him.

"You're looking lost, little dude, who're you looking for?" asked a tall man with a bicep bigger than Sam's head. Jesus.

"Oh, uh, Gabi- Gabrielle Granger?"

Immediately, the guy's face lit with recognition, and he prattled her room info off. "You good - got all that?"

Sam nodded, and with that, his jacked guardian angel took off toward the door. Ships passing in the night, never to meet again. 

He shook his head slightly as he headed for the stairs (there was one elevator, but it made these awful _noises_ when it moved and he'd rather not die like that.)

He felt like maybe Gabi living on the fourth floor was cosmic payback. Fair enough.

While he trudged up the stairs, he relieved his phone from his pocket and tapped out a quick text to Peter.

_headed up to gabi's rn i'll,,, let you know how it goes_

By the time he'd hit the second floor, his phone buzzed with a reply.

**Everything's gonna be fine. I love you.**

Sam fiddled slightly with the edge of his phone, a small smile at the corner of his lips as he replied in kind before pocketing his phone for the foreseeable future.

By the time he made it to Gabi's floor, he'd felt like he was dying, only a slight exaggeration. He paused in the stairwell to catch his breath and reorder the plotted points in his Foolproof Kinda Like Coming Out Speech (patent pending.)

It was simple: 

• Explicitly state the purpose of the conversation (dating best friend for three years, did not tell you, really sorry)  
• Do Not Throw Up For The Love Of God  
• Use one of the three pre-thought out Deflection Jokes to keep it light-hearted and fun  
• Dish on three years worth of relationship in an attempt to build camaraderie and thus learn literally ANYTHING about how she and Jenna got together 

Quietly, he moved the second bullet point up to first place, and finally pushed through the stairwell door into the hall.

There were a few of Gabi's hallmates milling around, dipping in and out of their rooms, bags in tow, greetings and goodbyes in their mouths as they moved about. All no doubt getting ready to flee their rooms for the weekend in search of something better than tan walls and the overbearing weight that came with the final weeks of a second semester.

He dodged a few people, eyes finally landing on the door he'd made an hour and a half drive to see. Vaguely, he thought about Monster's Inc. And then he got kinda pissed because like, really? That's what his mind supplied? So he went on auto pilot through the entire process of walking up to the door and knocking, which was probably for the best, given that he would've sat in the hall until Gabi found him otherwise.

"Just a sec!" 

It was only once he heard her voice that it caught up with him and his internal "ohshitohshitohshit" monologue began, but there was no walking away, because Gabi was and always had been faster with him and he'd rather not get tackled and subsequently spill his last secret in the hall in a dorm for a college that may or may not have denied his application.

The door swung open and there, in her PJs with her hair pulled back and a lingering smile on her face, was Gabi Granger. His best friend.

"Sam!" she exclaimed, hands going for his shoulders to pull him in for a hug. "What are you doing here, oh my god, it's so good to see you," she rambled out. Considering that they hadn't seen each other in person since the basketball game, he was inclined to say the same, which was why he wrapped his arms around her and laughed slightly, nervousness gone for just a second.

"Surprise?" he tried as they pulled back from one another.

"Uh, _yeah_. Come in," she said, ushering him in and pulling the door closed behind them.

"It's kinda a mess, my roommate didn't clean before she left so-"

"Oh, so we're totally gonna glaze over the fact that you and Jenna were totally making out while watching - what is that, The Bachelor? This is a good season, but you _hate_ The Bachelor-"

"Hey, Sam," Jenna said, throwing her hand up in greeting. Her plaid PJ bottoms and corresponding black tank top were rumpled, but her smile was pleased, the cat who caught the canary.

"God, gross. Hey, Jenna."

"What's up?" Gabi asked as she fell back onto her bed beside Jenna, resting her cheek against her girlfriend's (?) shoulder.

"Oh, I, uh," he started, suddenly nervous because this was all too real all too fast and he'd forgotten his fucking bullet points. "I kinda needed to talk. With you."

Gabi narrowed her eyes at him slightly, mouth quirking up. "Does it have anything to do with you wearing a certain documentarian's hoodie, or…?"

"That's pretty gay, Sam," Jenna pitched in as his cheeks pinked, all blotchy heat and embarrassment at being caught.

"That's what I was going for," he shot back without thinking.

"Wait, seriously? I was joking, Sam, oh my god-"

Jenna's mouth opened in a stricken grin. "No shit," she said. "I thought my gaydar was like super fucked, or something."

" _Jen_."

"All right, you two have feelings and shit to do, I'm gonna go grab lunch. Sam, you still gonna be here?"

"I guess?"

"I'll grab you something, then. Fessing up always makes me hungry."

And with that, she left. In her PJs. With no shoes. What the fuck.

"She's charming," Sam commented dryly.

"Oh, no, you don't get to deflect! You just dropped a huge truth on me!"

He gripped the back of his neck, feeling heat there too. Damn his Cullen-esque complexion.

"I had like, a whole speech. God, we've established I'm gay, right?" he asked - he'd much rather rehash that than dive into this.

She nodded. "And…dating?" His turn to nod. "Dating Peter," she finished. "Wow, holy shit. How long? No, let me guess - since the basketball game."

"Three years," he blurted. "Almost," he amended. "Almost three years."

"Samuel, what the _fuck_ ," she squawked, yanking him by the hand down onto the bed to sit opposite her. "Three- before or after Vandal?"

"Before?" he scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly as he tried to align a small timeline. "Right before school started, we uh, we had like this last hurrah thing, and I just. I don't know, I'd realized at the beginning of the summer I liked him and I just couldn't, I couldn't stand it. I told him I was gay and then he told me he was gay and we just kinda sat there, and out of the blue he was like 'so can I kiss you' and of course I was like 'fuck yeah, dude,' and I mean. We've just kinda been dating ever since."

"You've 'kinda been dating' for three years," she deadpanned. "I'm not mad, Sam," she said quickly, realizing the increasing levels of Look he was giving her, "Just shocked? Well, not really, I kinda figured you had a thing for him, but like, you didn't know? I don't know. But, yeah."

"Oh, I full, one hundred percent repressed it for most of freshman year," he said. "Like, I honestly didn't know. And I say kinda because like, okay we both agree that we started dating after that kiss. Hands down that's what happened, but we were like, y'know objectively pretty terrible at dating? So like, while we were working on season one we were swinging wildly from slight tension at all times to 'no, we have to edit that out so bad.' So, yeah."

She laughed, it whispering off into a sigh. "Y'know, that really explains all the lingering shots of his profile," she said nonchalantly, her eyes fluttering closed as her lips curled.

"God, shut up, I didn't even realize I was doing it, and then I had to sit through edits with him and _realize_."

"Did he?"

"No! It was just, 'hey Sam, great camera work, can you try panning out a little bit more' because he's a moron."

She cracked an eye open, levelling him with a steady look. "I have never, in my life, heard the word moron said with so much love, and frankly, I'm impressed."

Suddenly, her other eye popped open, filled with - something he couldn't quite place?

"Sam, oh my god, when you call him dude-"

Immediately, he choked on a laugh, knowing exactly where she was going with it.

"Oh my god, that's your guy's version of babe! Sam, why is that literally the worst thing I've ever realized in my life, what the fuck."

"I don't question you and Jenna's rituals," He motioned vaguely here at the discarded laptop. "So I don't see why you get to question ours."

"You're really not gonna let that go, huh?"

"Again: you hate The Bachelor. Also you haven't told me shit about how _that_ even happened so uh, no, I'm not."

"Oh my god, that's what you're on about? You wanted to know how I met my girlfriend? Sam, now I know this is hard, but follow me on this one: you could've just asked."

"Fuck you," he said with a laugh. "And stop stalling, c'mon, I wanna hear all the embarrassing details."

"Why would you assume it's embarrassing?"

"Because I've met you? And Jenna, for that matter? As much as she tries to act high and mighty that girl is a _mess_."

"Shut up, she's not, she's really trying to get herself back on track, honestly. That's how we met, actually? You know she works at that hot dog place like twenty minutes from here, yeah?"

"Yeah, she told me all about it when she FaceTimed me at four in the morning on a Thursday," he replied with a smirk. "She put on the propeller hat and everything."

Gabi laughed, one made of gentleness that made her nose scrunch a little, and her smile lines flicker into place. One that made Sam smile because he could see just how _happy_ she was.

"She hates that thing so much."

" _Gabrielle_."

"Right! Okay, fine. So. One, youwereright it is embarrassing, just let me get through this before you say anything."

"Two?"

"I don't remember it, moving forward- as you know, I'm in an acting troupe. Among the members of that troupe are a few girls that I share a couple classes with and Daryl, the only guy I don't flat out refuse to associate with. Me, Kim, Ishani, and Daryl were all gonna go out to eat, but there was that scandal with like, contaminated ingredients at our pizza place, and the McDonald's was under construction, and it was just like, 'oh guess we're fucked,' y'know? But Daryl goes 'hey, my cousin works at Get A Long Little Doggie, he can totally get us a discount, you guys wanna try it?' And we weren't gonna say _no_. We keep Daryl around for a reason, and that reason is he's a genuinely good guy, so we trust him.

"Anyway, we all pile into Ishani's car because she's the only one of us _with_ a car because mine was in the shop-"

"And so the driver becomes the drivee-"

"Sam, that's just a passenger. But we pile into her car, and head over, and everything is going fine. We get our table, we get our food - it's good. And then Kim's like 'hey, Gabi, can you tell what's blocking up this ketchup bottle?' and I didn't think a thing of it because I thought I'd left all the pranksters in Oceanside, so I look over and she shoots a stream of ketchup at me. 

"And like, okay it's funny, and we're all laughing, until we realize that I'm in a white t-shirt, and it looks like I've been half murdered by Ronald McDonald himself. And our table's out of napkins and the bathroom's occupied, so I have to trudge up to the counter in all my shame, and ask for a stack of napkins.

"I didn't think it'd be an issue, because our cashier beforehand had been pretty chill, so it's like, yeah, okay, I'll embarrass myself in front of this guy, but it'll be fine, I can still come back here - did I mention the food is really fucking good? - but I guess we came around shift change, so I walk up to the counter, and there's Jenna."

"Jesus, Gab."

"Right? So, I'm trying to make eye contact, but it's like, hard, because I'm covered in ketchup in front of this really cute girl, and my asshole friends are cackling behind me, and Jenna's keeping unnerving eye contact, and I'm panicking, but I finally get the napkins, and I thank her and she tells me to have a nice day and take it easy, and I just. Shuffle back to my table. 

"Ishani's got her head in her hands and Kim's giving me her Pursed Lips of Disappointment and Daryl's got like, this pained expression? But Ishani helps clean me up and we leave, and I think that's the end of it.

"But like, two days later I'm craving one of those fucking hot dogs. I've been up for way too many hours studying for this stupid test I have, I'm starving, and I decide to treat myself. So I hop in my car, now blessedly fixed, and I drive out there, and it isn't until I'm at the door that I realize _fuuuck_ she could be there."

"And she was, wasn't she?"

"She was. I walked in and walked right out, but of course the have a _bell_ , so I walked back to my car, shuffled around it a bit, then walked back in, making it look like I'd just forgotten my wallet because I'm a professional, and I didn't know if she'd recognized me, and I can only undo so much damage.

"She did recognize me, and it was slow, so we kinda talked for a little bit? And then it just became like, a thing, I guess? For like, two weeks, because I could study there as long as I bought something, so most days I'd just get a drink and she'd come and sit and talk with me on her break or whatever, it was nice. 

"And then Daryl caught on because his cousin usually works shifts with Jen, so Daryl came up to me one day and was like 'heard you've been at Little Doggie a lot lately' and I was like, 'yeah' so long story short on that one, he was like, 'maybe you should ask her out since you already spend so much time with her' and like I said, this is why we keep Daryl around. Anyway, I went into crisis mode for a weekend because I knew he was right, but I also didn't want to ask her out on the clock because that's shitty, y'know? But I also didn't have her number and I wasn't gonna ask her out through _Instagram_."

"If I've taught you one thing it's don't be a DM-slider and I'm proud of you for remembering that."

" _Anyway_. So, I end up there around the end of her shift on Tuesday, and she's trying to play it nonchalant, but she was totally bummed I hadn't been in over the weekend, so she comes and sits down after she's clocked out, and we get to talking, and before I can blurt out the thing I've been working up to ask for literally two and a half weeks she casually asks if I want to get dinner later."

"And?"

"And I said no."

"Gabi! Gabi, what the fuck! Like, I know you guys are dating now, but what the fuck!"

"I had rehearsals, Sam! And I panicked. And I almost didn't fix it, but then I did, and we ended up getting lunch that Thursday, and as far as first dates go, it was pretty great."

"So, what, the basketball game was date number…?"

"Oh, shit, I don't know, well past one. But quit looking at me like you know what date it was for you and Peter - god, that's really weird to say."

Sam scrunched his face slightly, something lesser than pain, but more than sheepishness flashing in his eyes. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you," he said haltingly, trying to find the words - this was the talk he'd planned on the drive, in fact. "We just, god, we really weren't ready, but then…"

"Then you saw me with Jenna," she supplied, realizing the shift.

"Yeah. And I'm, like I'm still amazed that I missed the you being bi thing, Gab. And I'm sorry? Like I feel like I should've known and been there for you? But like, it's cool, because we've got it now. I just - our parents knew, we, like we were pretty bad at keeping it from them, and it made things a lot easier, so they knew, and we're gonna do a thing, after graduation, slog through a public coming out, but we talked about it - I know, healthy communication, shocking - but, yeah, we talked about it, and we both didn't want you to find out like that, and after the basketball game everything just seemed like it had kinda fallen into place."

She reached for him, her hand on his. "I'm really glad it did, Sam. I'm glad you both realized you could tell me; and I want to apologize for if I ever made you two feel like you couldn't?"

"No! No, it wasn't- god, no, it wasn't like that. We just, we really weren't ready. Like, nothing was stopping us, but at the same time, everything was? But, I mean, now we're, yeah now we're ready."

He expelled that truth in a breath, rubbing his palms against the thighs of his pants, an antsy motion for a nervous confession.

She smiled at him again, that same smile of happiness, though less lovestruck, and more familiar. 

"Good. That's- god, I'm really proud of you Sam. Both of you. But, you especially."

And he smiled back. "Hey, I'm proud of you, too, slugger."

"Why did you have to take this nice moment and fuck it up."

The answer to that was simple. Because it was how they were. Because they fought and loved like siblings. Because Sam was so proud of Gabi, and she was so proud of him, and they'd die before they let the other know just how deep that pride ran.

Because they had grown up together, but this finally felt like they were growing as people, together. Because this was just another thing to share, another form of unbreakable solidarity.

Because Sam had a hat in his bag to give to her, like he had with five before her, because he wanted her to know how much she meant to him. Even if that was conveyed with a gas station snapback and bad proclamations of pride in his best awkward step-dad impersonation.

He also had one more hat with hers - one for the girl who made her smile more genuine than Brandon fuckin' Galloway had ever made it, for the girl who would be sticking around for a long while.

Because later, when he gave them the hats, and they joked about it being a peace offering, they'd be wrong.

Because all along, they'd been words he couldn't figure out how to speak. Thanks for growth and constants and newness and ringing acceptance.

Because he was Sam Ecklund, now the proud owner of only one original hat, but an even prouder friend to seven people with ones to match.

Oh, and of course, a snowglobe.

\---

It wasn't until later, once he was home, once he had sat down to a late dinner with his parents, once he'd fielded questions about Gabi and her studies and how she was liking college and this and that.

Once he'd slipped off to his room and changed into his sweatpants and called Peter and talked about their days for an hour or two. Once he'd heard a yawn through the other end of the phone and told him to get some sleep and he'd see him when he got back to Oceanside.

Once he'd heard a familiar, "Goodnight, love you, babe," that Peter used when they were away from one another because as much as the term wasn't Peter's thing, it was Sam's.

Once he'd hung up, once he'd slipped under the weird, geometrically patterned comforter he'd had since eighth grade. Once he'd checked his social media for the final time. Once he'd moved to settle into his pillows.

It was once he'd done all this, once his day was almost officially done.

Once he quelled his nerves that he finally pulled the envelope from the pocket of the hoodie.

It was crumpled, but his name was very clearly printed across the front, and the Admissions Office's address to a school he'd just spent the day at was in the top left corner.

He almost sat it on his nightstand, called it a night, didn't even press his thumb against the self-stuck strip that keeps him from the letter inside.

But he thought about his father, having paced the house in waiting. About his mother, who worried, but tried not to show it.

He thought about Gabi, happy in her dorm room, or gushing to him on the phone about how much she loves it there.

He thought of Peter.

He opened the envelope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my notes as i plotted their final bits of conversation, it said, "sam: giving her a hat (a metaphor for his love and trust? you bet your ass!)" so i guess the real hats were the friends we made along the way yall
> 
> only one more chapter to go! i'm really excited bc i wrote the beginning of it before i even finished ch 2 and it's something i'm incredibly proud of/adore so!!! i'll see y'all soon w tht!!


	4. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> were trying smthn a little different here but were just gonna roll w it!
> 
> also i took liberties w all their usernames bc i dont remember any canonical ones and i didnt feel like looking for them gkdjfj

On June 14th two posts went live on two respective Instagram accounts at two respective times.

Surprisingly, the first was Peter.

At 8:32 p.m., he posted the following:

[ **Image description:** _Sun waning over the Maldonado residence, Peter Maldonado, sans glasses, in a starkly colored cap and gown, his eyes scrunched shut in laughter. His hair had been slicked back for the occassion, and his eyelashes were on full display. In his right hand were his wire framed glasses, and in his left, his diploma booklet. On his right stood Sam Ecklund, equally dapper under his atrociously colored cap and gown, which was unbuttoned and open to show the viewer his pale button up and black dress slacks beneath. His hands held the side of Peter's face and the back of his neck respectively, and he was in the middle of planting a goofy, over exaggerated kiss on his cheek_.]

The caption simply read:

Mom got this one without either of us realizing it. Four whirlwind years have past, but three of them I've gotten to spend loving him, so that's pretty all right. Congrats to my fellow members of Hanover Class of 2019.

There were three hashtags. #classof2019 #hanover2019 #pridemonth

And the top five comments were as follows:

 **dylanmaxwell420:** oh shit!!!!!!!!!! oh SHIT!!!!!!!!!!! @wbbspencer @l.l.coolganj @_wiley_coyote_

 **whyyoualwayslyman:** i'm happy for you two!!! tht being said i stg if i hear abt any shenanigan happenings in my guest house i'll sue

(Peter may have screenshotted this comment and texted it to her with nothing but a winky face attached, if only to get her riled up - no more had happened than movie nights curled up together on the couch, and maybe a few make out sessions in between sleuthing. But it was still funny to watch her protest via text from a few states away.)

 **demarcustillman01:** still cant believe there i was day one tellin you to shoot your shot with your man of like 2 yrs pete, all the love to yall tho 

**kevinhhc:** While I believe love is nothing more than a poorly fashioned wool we pull over our eyes so as to dull the inevitabilities in life, I'm still glad you two have found, seemingly genuine, happiness in your reprieve. 

And surprisingly:

 **patnickelback:** huh. neat!

(Peter barely resisted deleting Pat's comment.)

Fashionably late to the party, two hours later at 10:44 p.m., Sam posted the following:

[Video Transcription: 

_Sam, standing in front of a backdrop of a few prim and proper trees outside the auditorium where he has just graduated. Behind the trees a concrete path can be see in between the crowd of newly-minted graduates and their families._

**Sam's mom, excitedly, unaware she's taking a video:** Okay, okay, hold the booklet up!

 **Sam, laughing:** Mom, there isn'teven anything in here yet.

 **SM:** I know! I'm just excited- hold it up, no one has to know.

_Sam holds up the booklet and fixes his face into an acceptable smile, having assumed his mother is taking a picture._

**SM:** Okay, got it-

_The video shakes slightly as she laughs as he starts pulling silly faces into the camera._

_From behind Sam, a figure approaches, coming down the concrete path at a brisk pace, gown billowing against the breeze._

_The figure comes better into view and it's clear that it's Peter Maldonado, still perfectly put together from the graduation ceremony fifteen minutes before._

_He wraps his arms around Sam's middle, who has as of yet been unaware of his presence, earning a jolt of surprise._

**Sam, hissing:** Shit! Dude, you scared me-

 **Peter, grinning as he rests his chin on Sam's shoulder:** Sorry.

 **Sam, knowing:** You're not.

 **Peter:** Not really.

 **SM, mumbling:** Oh, I want a picture of this-

_Upon hearing her, Sam and Peter immediately pull equally terrible faces in hopes of ruining the nonexistent photo._

**Peter:** Okay, I just wanted to see you real quick, but I gotta go before my mom kills me for ducking out of pictures- I'll see you later?

 **Sam:** Yeah, yeah, of course.

_Peter presses a quick, no hesitation kiss to his temple before turning to leave, the last audible thing being:_

**SM:** Oh shit, Sam, I think I've been videoing this whole time-]

[ **First Image Description:** _Captured from the video, Sam still awkwardly holding his diploma-less booklet in front of him, sun glinting off the gold 'Hanover High School' lettering stamped on the front. His face in pulled into a goofy expression, tongue out, nose scrunched, eyes closed. Peter has his arms around his middle, chin tucked onto his shoulder, and his eyes are crossed behind his glasses, his mouth an unwavering, delirious grin._ ]

[ **Second Image Description:** _The picture becomes less clear, slightly grainier, plainly older, where it's focused on a young Sam Ecklund, who sits on a pale carpeted floor. He still has new baby fat on his cheeks and ice cream around his mouth. His eyes are closed, his nose is scrunched, and he's cheesing for the camera. Peter Maldonado's arms are around his shoulders, he's still wearing practically the same glasses, which his eyes are crossed behind. A wide grin paints its way across his face_.]

The post is captioned with: if you havent heard by now, i both graduated AND got accepted to a hell of a good college (@withaninotay and i are abt to be reunited and it feels So good) but i also managed to keep the literal love alive with @pmaldonado for three years which is my favorite part so to all five of my haters i say fuck you #hanover2019 #pleasequitmakingmefielddmsonifpetessinglenow #hesnot

And commented upon by dozens of people, the most important of which being:

 **withaninotay:** answer your phone you little shit!

 **mingzhang18:** all those years of me kindly ignoring you two playing footsie under every table you came into contact with and this is how you officially tell me

 **jennahotthorne:** you two are so dumb and i love it

 **madikap:** i stg theres a picture of me somewhere taken at the exact same moment as tht video and its me in the distance squinting trying to figure out if its a) you guys and b) you guys being not just a couple but specifically Tht Couple gksjfksjfks

(Sam had immediately commented on this one with "i will give actual legal tender in the form of a crisp $10 bill to whoever can get me this picture so i can print it and frame it." On Monday morning he found a 'for a special grad' gift bag on his front porch from one Madison Kaplan with the picture, as promised, though already framed. It was even more hilarious than hoped, and traveled with him to his dorm that fall; he never did get to give her that $10.)

\---

Since the official coming out posts, a few telling photos had popped up on thekr respective Instagram feeds. Nothing too much out of the norm, because despite being open about their relationship, they still weren't incredibly keen on having their private lives scrutinized in their entireties. Huh, imagine that.

But as it turned out, them being open wasn't that far from what they were doing anyway. They were both kinda hot messes whose feeds were filled with the other anyway. This just had more heart emojis involved. 

\---

The summer between graduation and their first respective semesters as Certified College Kids was marked with a lot of goofy, honest shots.

They spend late nights at diners, whole days in long-forgotten movie theatres, afternoons at the beach.

The first were usually marked by one of them sitting in a booth, neon lights hitting them in a way that was clearly intentional. The second was mostly signalled with pictures of Peter looking in awe at the increasingly old architecture, with captions of Sam ragging on him in a way that was still somehow loving. The third was ever shifting, sometimes choice shots of the sand, or the other smiling, eyes closed against the sun; once it had been Peter getting divebombed by a seagull in a fight for his lunch he ultimately lost.

\---

Summer came to an end quicker than it ever had, meaning for the first time in their near lifelong friendship, they were at different schools, residing in different counties, not just a stone's throw away anymore.

And yeah, there were late night phone calls that both of their roommates hated them for where they bitched about classes and teachers and workloads and part-time jobs, text chains that dated back weeks of nothing but observations and unrepentant nagging, but they never broached the missing. It was unspokenly off-limits.

\---

But they made it through. 

They made it through and came out on the other side still together.

Spring break was here and it harkened the end of a beginning, the near close of their first year apart. 

Which, of course, meant packing up and hitting the road, even if it was just for a little while. 

Sam could never say no to a roadtrip, Peter could never say no to Sam, and they both could never say no to a little escape.

\---

"Y'know," Peter started out of the blue as he flicked his gaze from the road to Sam and back to the road. "I'm kinda offended."

Sam looked over from the passenger seat, finding his boyfriend trapped in a calm, golden glow from a dying sun.

"What about now?" he asked.

"Everybody else got a hat. _Jenna_ got a hat and she and Gabi hadn't been dating but for like, a few weeks."

"Oh, so you're not offended, you're just jealous."

Peter cracked a grin, but didn't immediately respond. "I'm just saying," he finally said. "Seems a little fishy to me."

"Yeah, well, that might just be the salt air fucking with your brain, dude."

Peter laughed then, a tried and true one that made something in Sam's chest feel like butter. Like hot butter. Like, butter that had been left out on the counter for two days and then thrown in the microwave for good measure.

"Besides, I pawned all those bad boys off, and it was the best decision of my life. They can't haunt me now, and as much as it ends up on DeMarcus's Instagram, that company owes me royalties out the ass, if we're being honest."

Peter rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I know you know that's not how that works."

"Yeah, but it gets you riled up and that's kinda hot."

"Shut up." But there was no malice, mostly fondness and that residue on your tongue when you don't have anywhere to be.

"Oh, hey, hold on," Sam said, interjecting between his own thoughts. He grabbed the edge of the hat on his head, the same one that originated the game at hand, and swapped it over to Peter, patting it down for good measure.

Grinning with the side of his mouth, Sam said, "Wha'd'you know, that's kinda hot, too."

Nose scrunched incredulously, Peter asked, "Only kinda?" 

"What can I say, I've got high standards."

"Then mine must be pretty low."

Sam barked a laugh, kicking one foot up on the dash. "Asshole."

They drifted back into silence, low music playing on the oldies station that Peter liked to claim was his mother's preset, but Sam knew better. Besides, as a curator of one good life aesthetic or another, daytripping to the sounds of to the Mamas and the Papas wasn't that bad of a deal for him.

In the end they ended up at an ice cream parlor by the beach, cramming as many toppings as legally possible onto their plain bases (chocolate for Sam, vanilla for Peter, as was the way of the world) and forgetting about anything outside of one good day together.

\---

So yeah, sometimes they went weeks, months, without seeing one another. Sometimes they dropped the ball on texts or calls or scheduled in movie dates via Skype. Sometimes the missing would swell, and sometimes it was so far on the backburner it was practically off the stove.

They were a rolling tide, moving in and out together, and just because they didn't look like it from the outside, or were posting about it 24/7, didn't mean they weren't still foolishly in love, even after all this time.

Sometimes it was hard for outsiders to see how they were even compatible - Peter with his steadfastness and compulsion and attention to detail, and Sam with his blasé exterior and earnestness and bad sense of humor.

But some days there were glimpses into it.

Like this.

[ **Image Description:** _Peter sits at the wheel, a picturesque background peeking out of the window, and a warm sun coating his face. His hands are steady, one on the windowsill beside him, one holding to the steering wheel with ease, forearm exposed and slightly tensed. His hair sticks out a little bit from under the hat he's wearing - a hat that everyone knows hasn't been touched by anyone but it's owner, Sam Ecklund, without consequence since its purchase. His face is surprisingly softened, something carefree and undeniably eighteen about it, the barest hints of a smile at the corners of his mouth. He's happy, and whoever took the photo is too, you can tell by the easy frame of the photo, by how it's slightly blurred, but no less perfect._ ]

And it all, somehow, made sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway im super emo bc all these years of writing fic and ive never finished a multichapter fic!! this is wild for me!!! im gonna miss it
> 
> tht being said yall feel free to hmu on tumblr @wlwshehulk bc im now full of spite and refusing to stop writing for the fandom kgksjfj
> 
> 11/2/18 EDIT: yall oh my god please make sure to check out this absolutely god tier [art of peter's coming out post](http://toucanart.tumblr.com/post/179695125710/on-june-14th-two-posts-went-live-on-two)!! thu did such an amazing job :')

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumbr @wlwshehulk and like,, just so yall know i Do take prompts wink wink nudge nudge


End file.
